


Of Bottle Collections And Thursdays

by CasuallyBadass



Series: ...And Thursdays [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Human, Baby (car), Background Character Death, Background Relationships, Castiel and Jimmy Novak Are Twins, Crushes, Destiel - Freeform, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Explicit Language, First Meetings, Fluff, M/M, Mild Language, Present Tense, Schmoop, Sorry if I missed any tags, This is really rather fluffy, Thursdays, Uncle Castiel, bottle collection, could almost be considered pre-slash, drinking buddies, this is super tame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-07
Updated: 2015-09-07
Packaged: 2018-04-19 12:41:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4746839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CasuallyBadass/pseuds/CasuallyBadass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You know, you’re only supposed to have one bag of items per time.” </p><p>Dean came to a full stop, his hand halfway to the machine’s opening as he turns and gapes at the man behind him. “Are you serious?”<br/>“It’s clearly stated multiple times on the door you entered through.”</p><p>Dean, eyebrows shooting up at the accusation that he can’t read and scoffs “Yeah ok buddy, I’m almost done here. No need to call the bottle collection police.”</p><p>“There is no such thing as far as I’m aware” replies the man, deadpan and so serious Dean would’ve thought the guy was making a joke, but considering he just called Dean out on having more than one bag of items in a motherfucking bottle collection center Dean was sure this guy was not the joking kind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Bottle Collections And Thursdays

**Author's Note:**

> This is the longest fic I've ever written. I attempted to keep it in the present tense, but since I am my own (worst) beta, please let me know if anything is sounding funky. Enjoy!
> 
> As an FYI I imagine Castiel to be around 34 here, Dean around 30.

Thursday was bottle deposit collection day in the Winchester household. It just made sense, really. Friday, Saturday and Sunday were when most of the bottles and cans were drunk; Monday required another wind-down beer (or two) after the first hellish day back at work from a nice relaxing weekend. Tuesday and Wednesday, well, sometimes you just needed to pop a couple cans after dinner; So that left Thursday, which nicely coincided with grocery day. Thursday is the end of the sale cycle for the local market, and Dean found, around 7pm at night, was nicely empty of patrons, while nicely re-stocked for the new Friday sales.

Dean hefted two of his bottle-and-can loaded reusable bags out of the trunk of his car, a nice classic black beast of a car, a ‘67 Chevy Impala, with enough trunk space he could shove his Sasquatch of a younger brother into if was necessary (sometimes, during a prank war it was necessary), while still having room for the weekly groceries. The reusable bags were Sammy’s idea, and although Dean initially went along with it just to appease his hippy-dippy brother, he’s silently grateful for them. He’s had a few close calls with the flimsy plastic bags at the market when carrying one too many frozen pizzas (and their surprisingly sharp boxes), up the eight trillion stairs to their cozy two-bedroom apartment.

Grabbing a cart out of the corral, Dean placed the bags inside with a melody of clinking glass and pushes toward the collection center.

The room is pungent from years of stale beer being dripped on the machines and floors by heathens that don’t rinse out their bottles before trying to get their five cents back. The floors are the type that sticks to the bottom of your shoes, the leftover drink residues something not even industrial strength cleaners can remove. Sam had a summer job as a cart attendant at this very market a few years ago, and Dean knows they clean the floors after the center closes down at 8pm. He twitches at the thought of how bad it’d be if they didn’t.

Dean pushes his cart inside against the wall, taking the first bag (cans) out. He stops at the first machine and empties the bag to the left of a dark, messy-haired business-suit type at the first plastic machine with his own reusable bag. Dean empties the bag, earning a cool $1.05 back. He heads back to his cart to grab the much fuller second bag (glass bottles), mumbling _excuse me_ as he walks by the business-suited man on the way to the first glass machine, and strike that, the _second_ glass machine, “Out of Order” flashing on the LED screen of the first.

He’s about halfway through emptying his bag when he hears a distinct foot tapping in between the almost rhythmic sound of glass crunching, he turns around and spots the business-suit as the source of the foot tapping, holding two glass bottles in his hand and the empty canvas bag hanging off his forearm, staring out the glass front of the collection room.

Dean shrugs and continues to empty his bag, only to have a gruff voice (one that certainly didn’t look like it belonged coming from the business-suited man) say “You know, you’re only supposed to have one bag of items per time.”

Dean came to a full stop, his hand halfway to the machine’s opening as he turns and gapes at the man behind him. “Are you serious?”

“It’s clearly stated multiple times on the door you entered through.”

Dean, eyebrows shooting up at the accusation that he can’t read and scoffs “Yeah ok buddy, I’m almost done here. No need to call the bottle collection police.”

“There is no such thing as far as I’m aware” replies the man, deadpan and so serious Dean would’ve thought the guy was making a joke, but considering he _just called Dean out on having more than one bag of items in a motherfucking bottle collection center_ Dean was sure this guy was not the joking kind.

Dean gives him a cool glare and continues passing the bottles through the slot.

He thought about hitting the “all done” button on the machine, letting the guy get his ten cents back, and continuing on, but why should he? All for some rule stickler? If the guy would’ve been like “hey man, I’ve got somewhere to be do you mind..?” then sure, _no problem_ Dean would have gladly cashed out and stepped aside, but no, this asshole deserves to wait.

The foot tapping started picking up a double tempo and Dean turns around to tell the guy to hold his horses but when he looks up to the guy’s face he sees a stormy glare out of some of the bluest eyes he’d ever seen. Dean ends up keeping his mouth shut, turning back around contemplating the guy’s face while he finishes up the last of his bottles. So, he’s a _hot_ asshole, chiseled jaw, 5 o’clock shadow, those gorgeous blue eyes, thunderous with anger for waiting, what, an extra 5 minutes? He’s probably an animal in the sack, Dean thinks, and then snorts to himself; because of course his brain would lead him straight to that. Sammy would tell him off for confusing reality with porn _again,_ but really it’s hardly his fault _._ He chuckles again and bets himself an extra slice of pie tonight if Sam says those exact words after he hears the story of the business-suited rule-defender-of-bottle-collection.

Rolling his eyes as he presses the receipt button, he mutters “have at it asshole” as he turns around, ignoring the guy, and grabs his cart as he heads towards the store entrance.

< \------------ >

Dean’s already emptying out his first bag of cans when the _business-suited hot asshole rule-defender-of-bottle-collection_ shows up again, with his single canvas bag of plastic bottles. He resolutely ignores Dean as he shuffles to the plastic machine directly to Dean’s right. Dean, thankfully, finishes his bag about that point, and when he moves to the glass bottles, chooses to bypass the first glass machine, to secure some distance between himself and the man.

He’s still working on his second bag when the business-suit finishes up. Dean catches his eyes for a hot second before the man turns to leave, and they’re even more prominently blue now that there’s no anger in them. Dean almost thought the man was about to turn back and say something, if the slight hesitation at the door was anything to go by, but the man exited the collection center, his shoulders slumping forward as he did.

< \------------ >

“Hello.”

The voice startles Dean, breaking his methodological feeding of the glass bottles into the machine. He turns to the voice, not surprised to see the business-suited man again, but surprised that he started a conversation.

It’s been several Thursdays since the initial incident, and although Dean and this man seem to visit at the same time, neither has said anything up until this point. Dean responds with a “Hey”.

“I’m..” the man starts, before stopping again. “I’d like to apologize for my behavior a few weeks ago. It was a rather trying day, and I’d like to make amends as we keep running into each other here.”

Dean stared at the man, unblinking. The man stared back just as intently. Finally Dean breaks the eye contact “Yeah man, sure. It’s forgotten.”

The business-suited man gives Dean a small smile and puts his hand out in greeting, “Castiel.”

“Gesundheit” Dean replies.

The man looks at Dean, unamused “That’s the first time I’ve heard that one. Thanks, but no, it’s my name. Castiel.”

Dean at least has the decency to look slightly embarrassed while he shakes the guy’s hand. “Sorry Cas. Never heard a name quite like yours. I’m Dean Winchester.”

Castiel nods “Novak. Castiel Novak.”

The machine Dean was working at starts beeping, letting him know he’s left it idle too long, and Dean shoots Castiel a small grin as they break the handshake and he turns back to pushing the glass bottles through.

< \------------ >

“So you don’t drink much beer, do you Cas?” Dean asked one Thursday, a month into their routine. Dean at the glass machine, Cas still the plastic machine.

“I’m not adverse to drinking beer, it’s just not something I keep at my home, unless it’s a special occasion or I require it in a recipe.” Cas says, shrugging as a response to Dean’s baffled look.

“Yeah but Cas man, if you have a rough day at the office, you won’t have any at home to take the edge off. Unless you’ve got hard liquor? I mean, I’m a whiskey guy myself when I need something a little stronger than beer.”

Castiel looks at Dean like he has six heads. “There are better ways to cope than drinking, Dean.”

Dean snorts, “Yeah, says the guy who broke out the rulebook on bottle depositing because he had a bad day.”

Castiel makes a noise of frustration “Dean, you said you forgave me for that.”

“I did! I didn’t say I’d forget though.”

Leveling Dean with a look, not as stormy as the day on topic, but there none the less, Castiel sputters out “Actually, your exact words were ‘It’s forgotten’ so with that assumption...”

Dean cut him off “Yeah yeah yeah _alright_ man. I won’t bring up the day you had your panties in a twist again.”

“Thank you” Cas says stiffly. “So you like beer and whiskey, what are your other vices?”

Dean snorts “Burbon, Baby, and Busty Asian Beauties. What are yours?”

< \------------ >

“So you have a child?” Castiel asks Dean the following week. Dean laughs “Not yet man, do you?”

“I thought you said you had a baby last week?”

Dean laughs harder, “No man, my car, I call my car Baby. She’s a beauty.” He walks down towards the end of the wall, pointing through the glass windows to where he parked. “That girl, right there.”

“Oh I see” Castiel said, nodding in understanding. “I’ve never understood pet names for objects, but my brothers have done similarly.”

“So do you have any kids?” Dean asks, itching to know if the formerly _hot asshole_ was in any kind of meaningful relationship. Not that Dean was interested in him, of course, but, they’ve been doing this for a while and Dean has a genuine interest in getting to know this guy. He’s quirky, but in kind of an adorable way.

“I do not, but I have a niece whom I am very close to.” Castiel hesitated, “Actually, her father, my brother, and his wife were in a serious car accident a few months ago. I’ve been her guardian since. It’s been… difficult. Having to completely provide for a teenage girl after only having to provide birthday and holiday presents is quite a change.”

Dean shoots Cas a look of sympathy, “I’m really sorry man. I won’t bring it up again. I really won’t.”

“It’s fine Dean. Jimmy and Amelia are recovering as well as can be expected... It’s just, teenagers are frustrating.”

“I hear ya man. I practically raised my brother, he’s just past his mid-twenties now, and he still has his moments.” Castiel nodded in understanding.

“On Thursdays Claire has volunteering at the library and I have to pick her up by 8:30. We had a disagreement that particular Thursday on the drive there. She wanted to go out with the other student volunteers afterwards, I said no.” Cas let out a full-bodied sigh. “She’s only 15 Dean. I can’t let her do that without her parents’ knowledge. As well as they’re doing, I’m unwilling to give them additional stress when they’re focusing so hard on recovery.”

“The stuff I got up to at 15? If my dad was around...” Dean lets out a low whistle, “Well, let’s just say it wouldn’t have been pretty if he caught me. You’re doing good by Claire, and her parents. Just gotta stay strong man.”

Dean claps Castiel on the shoulder in a very natural manner, although Dean realizes as soon as he does that maybe he shouldn’t have. They were still strangers. You don’t really touch strangers like that. “Uh Sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.”

“It’s not a problem Dean.” Castiel said with a slight smile.

Dean smiles back, his eyes meeting Cas’ in that electric way they seem to have. “I’ll see you next week Cas.”

< \------------ >

Castiel wasn’t there the following Thursday; or the Thursday after that.

Dean wasn’t worried; of course not.

Cas probably started coming on another day. That’s all.

Another day, at another time.

It wasn’t that Dean’s awkward shoulder groping scared the guy away.

Nope. That wasn’t it.

< \------------ >

“Are you free tonight? I’d like to get very inebriated and I think you would be a good partner to do so with.”

Dean jumps at the gruff brandied voice he hasn’t heard in nearly a month, nearly dropping the empty can of Bud in the process. “Cas!” Dean fights the urge to walk over and hug him like a long-lost friend. Instead he sports his largest smile possible. “It’s good to see you man!”

“Likewise Dean. Drinking, are you in? I need this to start as soon as humanly possible. It has been an absurdly hellish 3 weeks.”

Dean takes a good look at Cas, not just appreciating the angle of his jaw, but noticing the purpling bags under his eyes, the more unkempt than usual state of his hair, his normal 5 o’clock shadow looking more like the start of a beard, his usual tie completely missing, the top few buttons of his shirt undone. He looks exhausted, but still deliciously handsome. Dean doesn’t look too deeply at that last thought, but really, there was no other way to say it.

He finally realizes he hasn’t responded to Cas yet when he goes “Yeah man. Let’s do it. Do you have a place in mind?”

< \------------ >

He didn’t, but Dean did. After dropping Cas’ car off at his house, they end up at a little pub Dean frequents on his more classy nights out (read: the nights he’s not just looking for a hookup). Castiel orders himself four shots of tequila and Dean stares, open mouthed, as Cas downs one after the other, before asking for a double gin and tonic.

Dean’s been nursing a fifth of burbon before he decides to down that and order himself a second. He didn’t realize quite how much Cas meant business.

When Dean’s second drink arrives Castiel apparently decides he’s inebriated enough to chat.

“My sister in law passed away.”

Before Dean can get out the proper condolences, Castiel continues.

“She had a complication with her lungs, they couldn’t save her. Of course Claire is a mess. Jimmy’s health has deteriorated due to the stress; my other brothers have come to town, and stayed at my home until just this past Sunday to try to boost Jimmy and Clarie’s morale. One still hasn’t left.” He shudders, apparently at some memory of morale boosting or else co-habiting again with his brothers.

“Dean. 6 people are not meant to live in a 2 bedroom house. They are not. It’s just not possible. I’ve had to share my bed with my older brother, Gabriel since the funeral, two weeks ago. My brother Balthazar and his wife have been on the sleeper sofa in the living room, and his daughter has been bunking with Claire. It’s been an absolute zoo. At least Gabriel’s sleeping on the couch now. I’ve got my own bed back.”

Castiel finishes what’s left of his gin and tonic in two gulps and motions to the bartender for another.

Dean realizes he hasn’t said anything yet. “I’m really sorry man. For you, Jimmy, and Claire. That’s really shitty. To survive the crash for so long and then to..”

Castiel looks at Dean, eyes halfway to glassy, “They did all they could Dean. Amelia was Jimmy’s highschool sweetheart though. They were married by 18, had Claire by 19. I really,” Cas lets out a body-wracking sigh “I really hope Jimmy pulls through. I fear I would feel his loss exponentially more.”

“Are you two really close? I mean, you must be, you both live near each other.”

“We’re twins actually. Gabriel is older than us by 4 years, Balthazar younger by 2. We always had each other, a way to beat the middle child syndrome, if you will.”

\--

Dean was not _developing_ a crush. He absolutely was not.

Dean totally _already had_ a crush, and he had enough liquor in himself to admit that internally and when he switched himself to soda at 9pm, it was purely for Castiel’s sake. He needed to get Cas home. Dean wasn’t sobering himself up because he was worried about spilling his guts to his pseudo-date. Absolutely not.

By 10pm Dean switches Cas to plain tonic water, seemingly without his knowledge. He still talked like he swallowed a dictionary but the sounds slurred in a way that was almost unbearably cute.

They chat until well after 11pm. Despite Castiel’s earlier mood he has considerably cheered up as the night went on. He’s a funny guy when he lets loose a little. Dean had picked up on that over the last few months, from their five minute Thursday conversations, but it was another thing entirely to experience it for multiple hours. (And really, how has time gone by so fast?)

Dean asks the bartender to cash out and he decides he’ll pick up both his and Cas’ tab. It’s the least he can do for the guy.

Cas however, once he realized what was going on vehemently disagreed with Dean’s generosity.

“Absholutelee not Dean. No I will pay for our drinksh. I invited you out tonight it’s the leash I can do Dean.”

“Cas man, it’s totally ok I can get it today, you can get it next time? Ok?”

“No Dean. I refushe it’s hardly fair as I drank a large quantity more alcohol than you.”

Dean sucks in his bottom lip debating on whether to continue arguing with a drunk man. “Ok man, but next time I’m footing the bill, _capisce_?”

\--

“Your Baby is very pretty Dean” Castiel’s slurring has all but disappeared by the time they end up in Dean’s car. He gently runs his hand across the passenger door handle before managing to grab onto the handle properly.

“I told you she was a beauty” Dean said, lightly clapping her hood after he sees Castiel manage to get the door open.

Inside the car, it’s an enjoyable ride. Dean has the oldies station on low, and he’s humming along. Cas, silently beside him, has a small smile on his face whenever Dean looks over. It stirs up the fluttering in Dean’s chest.

They’re halfway to Cas’ house when Castiel turns to Dean and says, “I really enjoyed this Dean. You’ve cheered me up considerably, and I would like to see you more than just for a few minutes on Thursday. I consider you one of my friends. I…” Castiel yawns and hesitates “I don’t have many friends. I’ve never been as social as Jimmy and the others. And with Jimmy in the hospital and Amelia’s passing…This night was really enjoyable.”

Dean can’t help the smile that comes on his face “I like you Cas.” Dean cringes inwardly before he adds on “You’re a good guy. This was nice.” He didn’t fully save it, but hopefully Cas is drunk enough he doesn’t understand the depth of the initial statement. He needed to reign in his crush, and stat. The admission that Dean was one of his _only_ friends really solidified how much he really couldn’t fuck this up with his stupid crush.

Cas smiles, a full, toothy smile. “When are you free?”

Dean isn’t prepared for that question. If anything he was expecting a “give me your phone number, and I’ll give you a call”. He didn’t expect to set up another hang-out time so soon. “Um, whenever? I work Monday through Friday, but I’m home by 6. Free on Saturday and Sunday typically.”

“Gabriel will be leaving on Sunday. How’s Saturday? That way someone’s still there to watch over Clarie. Although, I’m not sure he’s providing very much supervision at the moment.” He looks over at Dean, sleepily, but completely open faced, eyes still slightly glassy, but glowing beautiful blue orbits sparkling like galaxies as the street lights pass over and brighten them from the darkness. He lets out a yawn and faces the window again.

Dean has to swallow another bout of surprise. “Saturday works. Any specific plans?”

The car descends into silence. Dean assumes Cas is thinking through his plans when he finally pulls to a stop in front of his house. Cas still hadn’t answered him.

Dean looks over to see his passenger has fallen asleep against the window. He nudges his shoulder gently. “Cas. Cas man, you’re home.”

Cas blinks owlishly, rubbing his eyes and running a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry Dean. I didn’t mean to do that.”

Dean chuckles. “Not a problem Cas. How about you give me your phone. I’ll put my number in. You can give me a call or text when you’ve figured out what you wanna do on Saturday.” Cas nods and hands over his phone. Dean quickly types in his info and sends himself a text so he’ll also have the number.

When he hands the phone back their fingers brush, and a jolt of lightning shoots up his arm. Dean jumps back, coughing out a “Sorry.”

Castiel leans forward, almost entirely into Dean’s space, “You don’t have to apologize.” His alcohol-laden breath is heavy in Dean’s nose, and Cas smiles that toothy smile again. “I’ll see you on Saturday Dean.” He leans over the last few inches, and pecks Dean on the nearest cheek.

Dean, although shocked at the turn of events, can’t hold back his own grin. “It’s a date.”

**Author's Note:**

> Constructive criticism welcome! I hope you enjoyed.
> 
> I'm sometimes on [tumblr](http://casually-badass-castiel.tumblr.com/) and more often on [twitter](http://twitter.com/purgatoryliving)


End file.
